


Delusions

by stygianCreator (JynX245)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Captivity, M/M, One of them is kinda nuts, Parental Irresponsibility, Unheathy Behaviors, Unreliable Narrator, Unwanted Advances, Yandere, implied drugging, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JynX245/pseuds/stygianCreator
Summary: Just a small oneshot(?) I decided to write, could be more if I get the drive. Probably not though.I like unhinged characters what can I say?
Relationships: John egbert/dave strider (onesided)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Delusions

John skips along, humming to himself brightly as he makes his way home.   
It’s a warm, if humid, day, and he’s eager to get home, since his boyfriend is visiting. He pauses at the crosswalk, watching as the lights change, and then jogs across the road- though he stumbles, untied laces catching under his sneakers, and he has to pause, glancing around to make sure he’s not in anyone’s way, to tie them back up.

  
A brief, mischievous smile curves across his face, buck teeth just peeking over his lip. He straightens up and brushes his hair out of his eyes, out from under from his glasses, his wayward raven locks now firmly tucked behind his ear on the left and clipped back via a series of bobby pins on the right. Someone bumps him slightly, and he apologizes softly, continuing on his way.

  
It’s his last year at this highschool, and seeing as his boyfriend is homeschooled, he harbors a few worries about their relationship and how it will work. His gaze drifts from ahead upwards, to the soft blue, cloudless sky overhead. It reminds him of when they first met, and he can’t suppress a soft giggle and a silly grin. One of the overly affectionate neighborhood old ladies nudges him gently as he makes his way onto the block, teasing him,

  
“I’d know that silly grin anywhere, young man! Someone’s got a little lass tucked away in his heart, does he?”

  
John gives her a nod, and says brightly,   
“Well, a lad actually! He’s very handsome and cool…” She ponders his statement for a second or two,

“Ah, so you swing that way. Well, if you’re happy that’s what matters, mhm?” Her words brighten John’s expression further, and he tilts his head with a wide smile,

“Yep!!”

  
Now brighter, he meanders up the block, alternating between skips and hops, thinking back to how he had met his boyfriend.

Well, they had met online first. They were about eleven at the time, and it was a chance meeting filled with ironic jokes and walls of red text. In fact, at first he had almost been intimidated by him. But he grew to laugh at the jokes, and endure the rambles and extract sense from them, building a friendship letter by letter.

  
It was only last year that they had met in person, but John was already head over heels by that point- well, a few months prior to the other teen announcing he’d come visit, he had fallen. It was so sudden, and contradictory for what he had thought himself to be, but his father had supported him and helped him through the confusion.

  
He leaps up the doorsteps in a fluid motion and lands on the doormat, excitement racing throughout his body. It’s not going to get old for him to see his boyfriend’s face, hear his voice, to feel his soft hair and hold him close…

  
John exclaims as he slams open the door,

“I’m home!!” His father looks up from the couch, and calls out,

  
“Did you have a nice day at school?” John slips off his shoes and hangs up his bag before answering,

“Yeah! Pretty slow but that could just be because I couldn’t wait to get home!” His father chuckles and looks back down to his paperwork and John skids over to the stairs leading down, and opens the door to the basement.

It’s nicely furnished, almost a flat of sorts, and he closes the door carefully behind him. His boyfriend has been staying here for his visit since they don’t have an upstairs guest room.  
He skips over to the other and wraps his arms around him gently, beaming up at him sweetly,  
“Hello Dave! I hope you didn’t get too lonely in here today!”

Dave Strider takes a careful breath, and uneasily wraps his arms around the smaller teen, answering in a level tone that doesn’t betray his emotions,

“Nah dude, I didn’t get lonely. I was fine, I’m fine being alone. Used to it, had to be with Bro after all. Your dad brought me some cake.”

John’s smile, bright and innocent, is deceptive, Dave knows. He knows all too well how deceptive everything about his sweet, sassy and mischievous personality is. Yet he runs his hand obligingly through John’s hair when the other nudges his head against his fingers like a cat.

Dave has been here for a year and a half. He had come to visit hoping he’d be able to find a way out of his dumpster fire of a home life, and in a way, he succeeded. He had wanted to get John’s father to help, to get into a foster home even- but John had different plans.

He still remembers how he arrived on his best friend’s doorstep at six am, bedraggled and jetlagged, and how John had answered the door, eyes bright and energy endless, drawing the blonde inside, and closing the door, latching it behind him.

He still remembers the piercing, unhinged affection in the cerulean gaze that he had thought would bring safety. The tight grip around his waist as his friend had hugged him, and the way his fingers had knotted into his shirt. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, asked where he could sleep off his flight. 

Things took a true turn for the uncomfortable, the uncanny, as John led him, no questions asked, to his room, and presented him with pajamas in Dave’s size, and also directed him to the shower. The clothing alone should’ve been a bit of a red flag, but coming from living under Bro, who bought just enough every other year for Dave to not wear out every pair of clothes he owned within a year of strifes, he had given the benefit of the doubt. John was such a sweet, giving person after all, it was surely just him looking out for his best bro.

As he had stepped into the shower, he had noticed the neatly lined up, unopened shampoo and conditioner in a scent he had mentioned liking a while back. An uneasy knot began to grow in his stomach, but he pushed it aside, too tired to deal with the weirdness of his situation. He washed off and dried off, dressed and made his way back to ask John,

“So am I like, sleeping in your room or something?” John tilted his head and nodded,

“You can use my bed until I finish setting up your room,” he informed him, and added, “I’m going to do that while you’re sleeping! I can also get you something to eat or drink if you’d like.”  
Dave had considered it, and then listened to his intuition and turned it down,

“No thanks bro. I’ll just get some rest.” He had laid down.

John pulls him back into the moment by leaning up and kissing his cheek. It takes a lot to not flinch. He doesn’t return the gesture, instead rubbing his thumb over John’s cheek, pantomiming affection over his uneasiness. 

In retrospect, John was clearly delusional, obsessive, and his father was enabling him in ways no adult should- like keeping a teenager captive in the basement. Dave’s stomach flips slightly as his friend presses against his chest, smiling and happy in his fantasy.

He can’t help feeling just a little sorry for him- it’s not as though he’s really been hurt by this whole ordeal, just made incredibly uncomfortable and a bit sick at times. But John seems to be unstable and out of contact with his reality. He had racked his memory for when this could’ve begun, and only came up with a few instances, suggesting it was an insidious collapse.

The fact though, is that John is pitiable. His delusional state is pathetic, and despite how creepy it is and how uncomfortable he makes Dave, he’s not hurt him that much, and neither has his father. Living in this well-furnished prison cell is better than how he had been before and it’s not like he had money for a return trip even if he wanted to go back to that hellhole; John had said he’d pay for the flight back.

That said, Dave isn’t resigned to his fate as the captive of his…former?...best friend, and as he cooperated with his two captors, he slowly searched for ways out, from attempting to nick the father’s PDA to worming his way into John’s mind and slowly manipulating him into giving him more things. He needs to be subtle when trying to escape, though.

He knows what will happen if he isn’t. After all, John looks small and weak, but he’s surprisingly terrifying with a hammer. Monotonous days passed and bored into his skull as he tried to find a way, any way.

John smiles up at him, lifting his shades slightly, and Dave stiffens, desperately thinking of a good reason to deter him.

“John, uh, my eyes are really sensitive to light dude, you shouldn’t take those off, my eyes will hurt. Photosensitivity. It sucks balls I know but it really hurts like fuck so-” The other’s fingers linger on the edge of the aviators, and he says softly,

“Really? If I made it so the lights were very very dim, could I see?” Dave scrambles for another excuse, and then settles on another mostly-truth,

“They’re not much to see, plus I just don’t like showing my eyes very much, it’s not cool to show them.” He shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant, but under his skin he’s agitated, itching, trying to avoid this situation. John begins to pout, and begs,

“Come on, you don’t have to be cool for your boyfriend! I love you even when you’re a huge dork!” Dave’s breath catches. Two trains of thought run parallel, 

_Oh. This part of the delusion, the part where he thinks we’re a thing and all that shit. Fuck._  
_He tries this shit every other week. Does he even remember doing so? Is he that far off the deep end or does he think I don’t notice?_

“John, I thought we went over this already,” he says uneasily, more quiet now, “I’m not your boyfriend, I’m your best, space, friend.”  
He watches John’s expression drop, gaze going cold, and almost instinctively goes to take a step back as John’s hands tighten in his shirt,

“You’re so silly,” he whispers, and he doesn’t need to raise his voice for Dave to be hanging on each word with dread, “Yes, so very silly. Don’t you remember anything? No? You will soon.”  
Dave pushes him away, and steps back, shaking his head.

“John.” His voice is firm, and something inside him knows the outcome will only be the same as previous times, “You need to get a grip. I don’t remember anything that suggested I was your boyfriend. Maybe if I could check through our pesterlog I could remember?”

John’s eyes narrow slightly, and he takes a step towards Dave, who backs towards the other side of the room further,

“No, you’re just trying to get out again. You don’t understand what you’re doing though, you’re delusional. Lay down and tell me what’s wrong, Davey. I’ll help.” 

His tone takes a swing from threatening and chilly to sickeningly sweet and caring, almost concerned, and Dave backs away further, reaching for anything he could use as a weapon. Of course, he finds nothing, anything he could’ve fought with has already been removed. John quickly closes the gap between them, reaching up to wrap his arms around Dave’s neck, his calculating gaze eating into Dave’s resolve like acid.

“Tell me everything,” he murmurs in a tone bordering on seductive, and Dave feels bile climbing his throat as he attempts to shove John away again.  
He freezes when he feels the other tightening his hold, and reluctantly allows him closer, only so his air supply wouldn’t be threatened. He looks down at him, his poker face slipping for a moment.

Though he wouldn’t, couldn’t say it, there was something eating at him. The small space, the bland walls, the artificial light. The monotony, the uncertainty of passing time. It had begun to chip at him, his resilience, his resistance, dissolving him into panic and irrationality. He had been confident when this began that he’d be able to wait it out, until John trusted him, until he could make a break for it, but now, with this person he had thought he knew wrapped around his neck and looking at him with a gaze that speaks volumes about its owner’s mental stability, he begins to question that again.

Can he make it? What would even happen if he did? Where would he go? How would he hide? _What would happen to John?_

He shoves the last thought out of his mind, and reminds himself that John is keeping him captive in a basement and trying to force him into a relationship. He does not deserve concern or pity points. He is unhinged and unstable, yes, but that does not mean that he’s even remotely in the right.

“Would you-” John’s grip tightens around his neck and Dave’s panic flutters again, “-like some food?”  
Dave caves, and says tiredly,

“Sure.”

He knows it’ll contain sedatives, that he’ll wake up with John wrapped around him like a blanket, but he almost can’t care at the moment.

_It’ll just keep going. Is this as bad as it could be? Sure he’s sick. But he isn’t beating my ass senseless or doing anything that bad._

John leans up, and presses a sweet kiss to Dave’s mouth, and Dave lets him, already drained from this interaction, already willing to be knocked out and spend possible hours in the void of unconsciousness.

Finally releasing him, John slips away to the door with a wink,

“I’ll go get you something then, dear~”  
Dave lurches over to the bathroom.

_This is sick, he’s sick, I’m sick for thinking it could work. What’s wrong with him?_

He hears the door latch over his retching, and he stares into the white porcelain as though it holds answers.

“What am I going to do?” He whispers softly, dismally, and there is no reply.


End file.
